Killing Time
by RapunzelK
Summary: The White Queen sets another challenge before her champion, though slaying this particular beast will require a weapon far different from the Vorpal Sword.


"How _did_ the hatter offend time?"

"Offend Time?" the White Queen echoed. Though the sun shone down through the clouds in misty, golden streaks of brightness, it was cool and dewy in the palace gardens. Soon enough the coolness would burn off and so the two women carried parasols to shade their faces. Alice could have done very well with the wide-brimmed straw hat Tarrant had made for her- stretching from shoulder to shoulder, festooned with ribbons and flowers- but the Queen, wearing her crown, had no such advantage and Alice did not wish her to feel left out.

"Yes, he mentioned that he had when I first saw him…the second time…just before the Jabberwocky and all of that," Alice attempted to explain.

"My dear, he never offended Time. Indeed, they have the greatest respect for one another."

"Then how did he come to be stuck at six o' clock, having tea all that time?" Alice pressed. "Everyone looked nearly the same as they did when I was a little girl, except a bit shabbier. I except that's from being out of doors the whole time. How dreary to have tea in the rain!"

"Yes, quite," the White Queen agreed.

"What happened?"

"Well, shortly after my sister seized the throne, everyone went to pay homage to her, as ordered. As tribute, I suggested the three of them sing her a little song." There was a mischievous twinkle in the White Queen's eye. "_Twinkle, twinkle little bat, how I wonder where you're at._" she sing-songed in a voice light and sweet. "It's a favorite air in Underland. However, I'm afraid a bit more practice might have been in order because Iracebeth found their recitation offensive. She ordered poor Mr. Hightopp beheaded for 'murdering a perfectly good Time'."

"Goodness," Alice remarked, not unused to the Red Queen's mania for decapitation but finding the idea gruesome nonetheless. Tarrant was rather attached to his head; so was she for that matter.

"Yes. That was the first night he spent in Salison Gromm's dungeons. Time, however, out of tremendous respect for the Hatter, who is as a rule a very punctual man, set him free. To the guards, one moment he was locked hand and foot in his cell, the next, he had simply vanished. Spirited away halfway across Underland in a blink of an eye. Time, you see, had stood still while the Hatter made his way to safety."

"How very courteous of Time! I rather wish he'd stop, or at least slow down, a bit more often."

The White Queen smiled one of her mysterious smiles. "Be careful what you wish for my dear."

Alice thought about that, recognizing that it was perhaps best to let Time govern himself. Then it occurred to her:

"Wait…_you_ suggested the Hatter and the others sing to the Red Queen."

"I did indeed."

"Then did you know what would happen?"

"I am not an Oracular, but it wasn't hard to guess the actions of my elder sister."

"Then you did know!" Alice cried, dismayed. "Then why! I don't understand!"

"Because, you see, we needed him."

They had stopped at the edge of the lawn where the men had the croquet wickets set up. Mallets in hand, the Hatter, Tweedles, Earwicket, and McTwisp were knocking the wooden balls about the green with little order but much enthusiasm while little Mallymkun ran up and down in excitement. Alice smiled, watching Tarrant take exaggerated care in lining up a shot through a double set of wickets.

"Needed him?" she repeated, not taking her eyes from him.

"Yes. As you may have guessed, he wasn't- isn't- well."

"I know, he's half-mad. He's a hatter," she shrugged. "Hatter's often go mad."

The White Queen rotated on the spot, as if mounted on a pedestal like a music box figurine. "Do you know _why_ they go mad, dear Alice?"

Her dark eyes were piercing in her pallid face and Alice found herself trying to swallow with a suddenly dry throat. "No."

"The processing of felt into hats involves mercury, and mercury when applied directly to the skin and in such large amounts, is toxic."

"Toxic?"

"Yes. You can see it in his hair, his skin, his teeth, his eyes…" she gave a sigh so soft and yet so heavy it seemed her heart would break. "Our dear Hatter is dying."

Alice could only gape, shocked, appalled, refusing to believe it. The sun slanting down through the mist and clouds, lighting his already flaming red hair, it seemed impossible. How could the Hatter be dying?

"Or at least, he was," Mirana continued. Alice looked up so sharply she felt her neck crack. "Once the Hatter was safely home, Time stood still for him again; for thirteen years in fact."

"Until I came..." breathed Alice, comprehending at last.

The White Queen nodded. "Until you came."

"Does Time stand still for him now?"

"It does not. Time, you see, cannot wait forever."

The White Queen turned to watch the game again, her long skirts just brushing the grass. Alice found herself struggling against a knot in her throat and prickles in her eyes. _He cannot be dying_, the thought repeated over and over again, _he_ cannot _be dying._ Yet the truth of the White Queen's words was haunting. Just in front of her, playing croquet with their friends, stood a man miraculously preserved for an entire decade, not a single day older than when she had first seen him at the age of six. His role in the events leading up to the Frabjous Day had been integral. Without him, everything would have gone differently, perhaps would never have happened at all. Therefore, the White Queen had devised a way to spare and extend his life without sacrificing his beloved trade. Alice pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, valiantly choking back a sob she refused to dignify.

"But I don't want him to die…" she whispered, blinking furiously.

"Neither do I, which is why I did what I did."

"But the spell is broken," Alice protested. "Isn't there something more you can do?"

"No, not I," said Mirana, the mysterious glint reappearing in her dark eyes. "But there is something you can do, if you would."

"What?"

From the pristine folds of her skirt the White Queen drew a small bottle filled with a brilliant blue liquid.

"Everyone dies, Alice," she said, voice kind and gentle. "But it need not be before his time."

Rubbing at her damp eyes with one hand, Alice took the bottle with the other. "What is it?"

"Medicine. It will not cure him, but it will make things a bit easier- for all of us."

Alice turned the bottle over in her hands, contemplating the rounded edges of its rectangular body and the vibrant liquid within. "What am I to do with it?"

"See that he takes it. Three teaspoons a day," Mirana instructed. "Once in the morning, one at noon, and one in the evening."

The White Queen turned to face her again and for once, Alice saw none of the mischief or secrecy usually glittering in the older woman's eyes. Instead, there was only pleading and a deep, aching sadness that reflected her own.

"Will you do this, Alice?"

Turning to look at the croquet pitch once more, Alice couldn't help but smile as Tarrant whacked the ball through both wickets, only to have it diverted as Mallymkun jumped atop and rolled it in the opposite direction at a run. Brogue-laced mock-curses as well as the Hatter himself followed the dormouse in hot pursuit amid wickets and players. Though she wanted to laugh, Alice found herself compressing her smile against the threat of tears. Time, if not standing still, seemed to wait patiently, admiring the scene with her, while she made up her mind.

"Yes."


End file.
